War on Terror

Grey haired lady
by the dairy -
phones in ears:
can't hear my
"'Scuse me! "
I touch her
shoulder
lightly,
eliciting
"Oh, please, God! "
With a prod
I move
her basket.
She yells,
"Go away! "
I do:
A terrorist
escapes
in the local
Safeway.

poem by Joe Oppenheimer
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Meeting Place

On the mug
my mother held -
where birds she loved
flew
under the storm
painted in grey,
over blue spruce, green pine,
and brown earth -
for years
she and I
almost touched
on its rim.
Our hands
almost joined
on its grip.
Then careless,
I let it slip
and shatter.
With no where else
to rendezvous,

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poem by Joe Oppenheimer
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Super Heroes

Artists drew Super Carrots to
push the donkeys' forward pace;

Motivate Moms to
change more diapers,
and iron mens' messy shirts;

Steel Soldiers to
deal death swiftly,
and then die in foreign dirts;

Determine Dads to
work with no stop,
so not to lose the race;

But keep Kids from studying.
They know a comic
when they see one.

poem by Joe Oppenheimer
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Blown Away

My mind is full of doubts
Like the head
of a dandelion ripe
to be blown away
always. Though
I know
I can calculate
and two
and two
is always
four.

And full of surprise
like a child's eyes
that Momma's
still there
after each
peek-a-boo;

And when building so tall

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poem by Joe Oppenheimer
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Comic Man

Old man, dead pan.
Past your prime,
pumping iron all the time
everyday a bit lighter
than
yesterday.

Finish in the shower
cleaning your skin loose
on that tower
that maybe was
unremarkable in every way,
save the old marine
buzzcut
of now
missing hair,

gray,
as the far faded red field
in the small

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poem by Joe Oppenheimer
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